


Slowly, then All At Once

by remi_wolf



Series: Travel Logs and Memoirs of Remo Long Legs [5]
Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Gen, Gun Violence, Hallucinations, Insanity, Psychological Torture, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Torture, poorly translated russian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:55:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23048143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remi_wolf/pseuds/remi_wolf
Summary: Two weeks or so after the altercation with Ashes, one morning-afternoon-evening, Remo finds the smell of smoke drifting on the breeze, and then follows it to find that the doors from the section of The Aurora they are in is entirely locked off. They are alone. They have no food. And no one will hear their pleas for help. What happens is a trip-stumble-fall into madness brought on by loneliness, dying a few hundred times, and the creeping realization that there could be a somewhat more permanent solution to your problems, just an airlock away.
Series: Travel Logs and Memoirs of Remo Long Legs [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1608139
Kudos: 10
Collections: Beguilements and Distractions, The Stowaways





	Slowly, then All At Once

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING  
> Oh my god. So many warnings.  
> You have been warned.
> 
> This is a weird, very weird thing I've got. Just. Remo's tortured. Psychologically tortured with isolation, lack of food, all of that. There's a lot of suicide, suicide idealization, all of that, especially within this chapter. There's another chapter that's being written, and probably a third, in which things might help get healed, but this chapter is just pure pain and all just Remo's slow descent into losing any grip on reality that they had previously.

It started with the smell of smoke.

Remo had taken to sitting and watching their solar system swiftly disappear behind them, now just as much a star as any of the other stars in the vast void they were hurtling towards, and this day wasn’t much different than the others. What _was_ different, however, was the smell of smoke that started curling up and through the corridor that led to the platform that he was on. He frowned, standing up as he started sliding down a ladder to the base floor of the ring, feeling the hum of the ship and trying not to imagine an uncomfortable edge to it. It was fine. Just a little bit of smoke. From what he had heard of Ashes from the other Mechanisms, fire wasn’t that uncommon with them.

It was strange, considering he wasn’t able to hear anyone or see anyone, and he found himself growing more concerned as he continued walking. It wasn’t far before he’d make it to the corridor to the next level. The smell of the smoke was stronger there, so he’d be able to figure out what was happening. He knew that Ashes had been fuming since their little duet a few days prior, and maybe they were setting things on fire to get over it, but he didn’t know what else it could be, or what the purpose of that would be at all. 

Sixteen steps, and he stood in front of the door that would open to the corridor to the next ring. 

The closed, locked door. 

Remo tried to spin the lock on it again before seeing that there was a bead of metal along the edge of the door, welding it shut. He took a deep breath, tracing along it, before closing his eyes. That was fine. That’s not a big deal. There were other doors. This was just the easiest one to access from his observation deck. He started walking, trying to remember the map in his head and where the next door was. It was farther, but he could manage it quickly. That door would be able to open, and he could ask Nastya or Ivy or even Jonny what happened to the door. His hands traced over the metal pipes and handrails, smelling the smoke still and feeling the mechanisms in his legs match the vibrations of the ship. The Aurora was still flying true. She’d keep him safe, at the very least. The edge of dread that had been curled in his stomach since the argument with Ashes kept growing with every step, but he continued walking to the next doorway. 

That one was welded shut, too. The metal retained some lingering warmth, and so Remo started running. There were another two doors in this ring, equidistant from each other. If he ran fast enough, maybe he could make it before the last two were welded shut. Because that was what had to be happening. For some reason, they were locking him into this outer ring, and he had no idea why.

Two hours later, Remo collapsed in front of the last door. It hadn’t even stopped glowing with warmth, but the metal was already affixed shut. The computer terminals weren’t working, too. It was reading out some language and some script that Remo didn’t recognize whatsoever, as though the Aurora had forgotten that he couldn’t read her programming script or had been returned to her default settings. He couldn’t read it, and he couldn’t even hear anything on the other side of the wall towards the next layer of the ship. After just trying to knock on the metallic doors, he didn’t even bother to cry out. It would be quiet. He was stuck in the void of space, where it was silent, except for the whirring of his legs, and the song of Aurora. 

After too long, Remo sat up, looking around their new prison, before starting to look for another way out. There had to be vents, or something. The doors couldn’t be the only way between rings. 

* * *

It took a day before Remo tracked down a clock and realized they had lost a day. Someone had drugged them, and they hadn’t even noticed, somehow. That had to have been how they were able to drag the piano out of this area, as well as weld the doors shut quickly enough. And the food. 

They had taken the food with them when they left him here. At least there was water, though. It wouldn’t be the first time Remo had gone without food, but that wouldn’t make it any less painful. All he had to do was find a way out. 

A way out. 

There had to be a way out.

* * *

A week of exploration revealed nothing. Any tools to try and pry open vents were gone. Aurora was refusing to speak in a language that Remo recognized. The airlock had no space suits in it. Unless he wanted to die in the void of space…Well. Probably not die. Just...float, forever. He’d be able to do that. That was an option. 

It was too quiet, though. 

Songs started coming fairly easily, though. He had never liked his voice much. Too high, and not quite strong enough unless he settled into a lower register. But he could sing, and he could come up with tunes and remember ones from when he was young, to match with Aurora’s song. 

He didn’t understand Aurora’s song, but at least she was still talking to him. He thought he might be understanding a few words of the terminals, which had taken to replying to him when he asked quiet questions, though he still didn’t understand the script. 

Where were the others? 

_Они в моем теле_

Would he ever get out of here?

_Каждое окно является запасным выходом._

Do you still like me?

_ Ты мой, как и они. _

He didn’t understand any of it. Still It was nice to think that Aurora was trying to make sure that he wasn’t so lonely. 

He hadn’t been this lonely since Romulo had died and he had lost his pack. 

* * *

A rough routine turned into this: 

Remo would collapse, and sleep for some period of time. 

Remo would walk to the nearest terminal and try to talk to Aurora until they were screaming at them to speak plain City talk, instead of whatever stupid language she was stuck in. 

Remo would leave, and scream, and sing.

Remo would sit, and look at the door, wondering if this was the time he would be let out. He had to be let out. They had to let him out. They couldn’t leave him here. He hadn’t meant to hurt Ashes or insult them, or whatever he did. He was a city pup, he didn’t know politics. All you did was fight until a pecking order was established, and then you settled down. He hadn’t meant to end up like this. 

Remo would leave, and scream, and sing. 

Remo would walk through the halls and corridors and up and down the walkways, trying to track down the person opening up the doors when they weren’t looking. They had to be there. He just had to find them, that’s all. He carefully closed the doors, behind himself, and open them and walk through, and continue running through the hallways, trying to figure out what was happening. 

Remo would leave, and scream, and sing.

Eventually, Remo would collapse, whether it was off the side of a walkway, or just in front of the observation deck where they would pretend that they could still make out their burning planet in a sea of unfamiliar stars. 

* * *

Almost two weeks after the welding of the doors, and Remo finally started noticing the way the world would spin for no reason, the aching in his stomach, and the way that he was in pain more often than not from not having eaten in too long. It would pass soon enough. It always did. 

Remo eventually found a small cubby in the piping and wires of the Aurora, and when their body started growing too weak to properly balance on the mechanized legs, just stayed put in the cubby. They had some water nearby, so they’d be fine until the doors opened up. 

Of course, the water ran out after a day or so. 

But they woke up a while later, and their stomach was gnawing at him, and he quietly started prowling the ring for food they wouldn’t find. 

And when their body started growing too weak to properly balance on the mechanized legs, just stayed put in the cubby. They had some water nearby, so they’d be fine until the doors opened up. 

Of course, the water ran out after a day or so. 

But they woke up a while later, and their stomach was gnawing at him, and he quietly started prowling the ring for food they wouldn’t find. 

And when their body started growing too weak to properly balance on the mechanized legs, just stayed put in the cubby. They had some water nearby, so they’d be fine until the doors opened up. 

Of course, the water ran out after a day or so. 

But they woke up a while later...

* * *

Remo lost track of time when they found them. 

Two beautiful pistols. One that was placed into a port deep enough into the ship’s walls that he wouldn’t have noticed it if Aurora hadn’t shaken it slightly loose and his arm wasn’t stick-thin to pull it out from the cabinet it was in. One that was different from everything they had seen before, placed into a crawl space that, when Remo tried to track to the source, ended in a welded-shut mesh, still somewhat warm to the touch. 

At least he could have fun with that.

He found a long stretch of room, and quietly started placing as many tables, desks, objects in general, to try and create a target that wouldn’t break Aurora--he couldn’t break his friend, she was so good, even if he couldn’t understand her, he hoped she could understand him—and started practicing with them. 

He set up a barricade against one wall, towards the center of the ship, against one of the doors that had been welded shut, to keep it from hurting the Aurora and breaching the hull, and carefully painted a target in some fine crimson-rust-brown-black pigment they found, and stood at the other end of the hall, about twenty too-long paces away. The lead pistol was raised first and Remo took a deep breath with mechanical lungs that whirred and ground, and cut into his chest, before closing his eyes. Everything felt like it spun, but that was the Aurora’s strange dance anymore, and so he opened his eyes again, firing a shot towards the target. 

And he hit someone.

They were rude enough to disappear though, but Remo couldn’t get his eyes out of his head. Eyes that mirrored his own, and he knew them better than he knew the sight of his own fast.

Romulo had died. He shouldn’t be here. 

He fired the pistol again, and the figure didn’t make another reappearance.

He continued firing the pistols, trying to grow used to them.

They were uncomfortable at first. 

And then they weren’t. 

Soon enough, they felt like extensions of himself, of his hands and arms, and he would place a bullet next to a laser bolt next to Ashes heart when he saw them next. 

* * *

Eventually, he spent more time in a world of nightmares than not. Aurora didn’t speak, nothing beyond her hums, and he couldn’t bring himself to talk to ask her questions or just to sing in duet with her hums. Everything hurt, and nothing brought peace, not for long. 

A good amount of the bullets ended up in Remo’s head.

Many were guided there by a gentle hand with fingers as long and graceful as his own, and Remo sighed softly as he felt his brother hug him close and press their heads together. 

“Come join me. Destroy your own Acheron, like you ruined mine.”

Remo would fire, just to get the feeling of oil-slick guilt off their skin, but Romulo would never leave for long, not for long, not at all. Again, and again, he would fire bullets and energy into his head, trying to get it to stop.

And then they were out of those. 

The ring stopped spinning when Remo would just walk off one of the platforms to hit the ground, preventing the false gravity from pulling them to the center. 

Fever nightmares and nightmares from being so hungry were common. 

Romulo flickered in and out of doorways more often than not, taunting Remo with the presence of another, or a way out, just to have it disappear and turn into metal walls as Remo approached.

Occasionally Remo would pull himself out of the nightmares and blackness long enough to ask Aurora if there were still the others. 

_ Да. Джонни и Настя придут.  _

Remo never understood, but it felt nice to see the words. 

The Aurora would have a nice voice. Maybe one like Ivy’s, though he almost had a difficult time remembering hers. Or maybe he was thinking of Nastya’s. She had been nice. Maybe she would come. 

* * *

Eventually, Remo’s questions to the Aurora stopped. 

He couldn’t stand not understanding her. 

Eventually, he found himself staring at the airlock, and wondering whether he’d be able to survive long enough to crawl to one of the other air locks, where there were people. They were in the void between galaxies, and if he fell off the ship, he would never return. 

But maybe the void would sing as sweetly as the Aurora. 

He started singing again.

* * *

When Remo’s voice finally stopped working, even after another period of blackness, he stood up, pressing his hands against the airlock, quietly tapping the buttons to open the first door. It took longer than he’d like, because they were in the same stupid language that Aurora spoke. He figured it out, though. He was smart.

He turned to the door as it opened up, and stepped inside, looking at the next door, the inches or feet of metal that separated him from the possibility of escape. 

As he raised his hand to close the door behind him and open the next door, he frowned, feeling a prick of pain in his chest, and a spray of blood against the doorway, before he was engulfed in blackness.


End file.
